You Know You Want Me
by Twiist
Summary: The tables have turned and the odds just got stacked a little higher, Will Draco and Pansy make it through the trying year ahead? 6th year rehash DP split perspective. Currently not being updated


**

Draco

**

The room was as cold and unwelcoming as the set of eyes fixed upon me, the sinister shadows of robed men flickering across the dimly lit stone walls, outlines of hoods held high and proud, becoming distorted as each flame wavered in a breeze that had no source. I couldn't let the slight air of contempt in the room faze me, I wouldn't allow it. I had a position to fill and a mission to complete, one of which would cost me dearly if I failed. 

_"I trust you understand what I have asked of you?"_

I nodded almost solemnly in reply to the cold hiss of a voice, my mind purposefully blank and every ounce of willpower I had put into deflecting any unwanted thoughts away from my seemingly exposed mind. Resisting the urge to swallow the lump that had fixed itself in my throat, I continued to stare up into those serpentine eyes, battling against the urge to collapse under their harsh gaze; I was a Malfoy after all, and now the only one of us in the Dark Lord's employ. I couldn't falter. 

_"Yes, My Lord. I understand completely."_

I almost choked on those words, but held my composure for long enough to stem the want to do so - Why had I agreed! Why had I taken on such a dramatic mission with what I was sure may have seemed the most absolute fervour? Those were the questions that usually would have been littering my mind, if I'd not had the dire need to block them out, although I almost paused for a moment to wonder whether or not I would succeed, only just stopping the thought from materialising as luck would have it, upon remembering whose company I was near cowering in; and for the record, I said _near_ cowering. It seemed he hadn't noticed my near moments pause, as he continued speaking with the same wry smile and terrifying hiss of a voice. 

_"And you understand the repercussions of failing in such an act, or the worse ones of getting caught?"_

I nodded once more, again fighting the need to swallow the lump in my throat, which now seemed to be the size of a bludger restricting my airway. Willing my voice not to waver, I replied in as proud a tone as I could muster. 

_"Yes My Lord..."_

If I had been able to think beyond my initially imposed bravado, I'm sure my thoughts would have been along the lines of - What was I doing? How did the Dark Lord himself think that _I_ could complete such a task? Such a task that he himself had failed only weeks previously! ... Was this punishment? Was this payback for my Father's incompletion of his own mission? Was my life on the line for the sake of an elder Malfoy's failings? 

It had taken me this long to even think of the possible repercussions of being inducted into the darker aspects of the wizarding world; it was what my Father had always done, therefore it was never something I had need to question. Did I want to be a Death Eater? Of course.. But was I willing to pay the price.. Now _that_ was the question.. Although, it appeared that the Dark Lord wanted me in his employ, and I was never a fool when it came to his ways - I was better off to comply and die doing so, than to face the wrath that would clearly have come with my refusal. 

_"Good.. Now give me your arm Draco.. And I warn you"_ He grinned a merciless grin, as if what was to come would be of great enjoyment to him and of great pain to me. I was hardly shocked. _"This may hurt.. But pain is nothing compared to the power you may someday wield due to this act alone.."_

I finally swallowed the lump in my throat, thankful to do so as it seemed to be growing larger with every second I stood under his vicious gaze, currently feeling as if I was trying to wash down a giant pumpkin with nothing but spittle and willpower to aid me. Drawing the sleeve of my left arm upward to reveal the pale flawless skin beneath, I near winced in anticipation of what I knew was coming. 

His wand drawn in an instant and his cold gaze fixed on the pallid skin of my forearm, he continued to grin in the same almost maniacal way as he touched his wand against my flesh, the painfully tingling sensation of the burn from it causing my brow to furrow slightly as his voice hissed an incantation, sounding more snakelike than his serpentine eyes could have possibly dictated. 

Imagine having tiny pieces of your skin hacked off with a red hot and rather blunt serrated knife, then to have each tiny burning section stitched back on in quick succession, only to have the process repeated on the still raw skin over and over again as if you were living the brief moment in slow motion.. very slow motion.. The kind of slow motion that feels as though it has taken years to subside.. That was the feeling that consumed me and near caused tears to leak from my eyes with the staggering pain that accompanied such an act. I refused to let my near watering eyes betray such weakness, instead scrunching them closed and waiting for the fiery ache to subside, despite the haunting feeling that suddenly overtook me which seemed to be screaming that it never would. 

**

Pansy

**

Repression..  
If there was one word to define Draco Malfoy's life's work; then repression would be it in my mind. 

That ghost of a boy lurking beneath the hardened, cold gaze of a man borne into a world he was not ready for; That was the precise quality of his steely grey eyes as he had boarded the Hogwarts Express at the start of our 6th year, entering the Slytherin compartment with the same detached look that he had long since become accustomed to wearing, and the rest of us accustomed to admiring. 

Now, I had known the boy for a long number of years, and was still trying to decipher the man beneath the greyness of each iris, a stormy greyness that seemed to darken more-so with each year; his eyes now so much like the sky on a dreary day, when summer suddenly becomes autumn and the trees haven't been given a chance to catch up with the season yet. 

Empty and cold although they should still retain some kind of warmth.  
Long dead to a world that they had been bred to despise. 

It seemed as if no one else but me had noticed the subtle change in him this particular year; his stance was the same, the intimidating grace that he held, the ability to plunge a room into still anticipation with nothing more than those cold eyes scanning across you as he entered your space. His hands, as usual, were balled into loose fists at his sides, and his stride bearing the swagger of a man who knew just how attractive he was, and just how easily he could have most others bow before this belief - myself included. 

Although, to one who had studied his face a thousand times, as I had, the difference this past summer had made was clear. He was more hollow looking, his pointed face looking a shade or so paler than usual and his eyes subtly ringed with the after effects of a good few sleepless nights. He had grown an inch or so, but looked suddenly less broad because of it, although to my well trained eye, this could have easily been because of the slight slump that had been imposed on his usually flawless posture. His eyes looked alive with darkness, yet lacked the usual fire that lurked beneath the surface, as if someone had stolen the bright intensity by pouring a muddy grey puddle onto a flame that had once raged brightly within. 

I worried for him in that moment. I worried for myself in that moment. If I'm honest, I worried for the fate of us all in that one simple moment. 

He had walked in with what could have been misconstrued as a sigh, if any one of us had held the ability to do so much as breathe upon his typically icy entrance into the compartment, let alone draw breath and bravado in which to comment on his demeanour. He hadn't sounded angry when he first spoke, just tired, world weary almost. He addressed the suddenly silent carriage with a single nod before taking his usual seat spanning the length of one of the long plush seats, the only other occupant of the seat being me, perched silently at one end and ready to move if he so much as hinted at it. 

_"If any of you so much as move or speak without a damn good reason, I'll hex you back to platform nine and three quarters... My head's pounding as it is, and I don't intend to have anyone contributing to the pain without good reason to.. got that?"_

With those stern words he had closed his eyes and laid his head down on an all too familiar lap; _my_ all too familiar lap. I swiftly shot the rest of the carriage a warning glare the moment his weight had fallen onto my outstretched legs, a glare that he usually would have sent out himself, one of which I had replaced without even realising that I had done so. My all too familiar hands were soon idly working their way softly through his near white hair and down towards the side if his head, gently massaging his temples for him before being asked to do so, and earning nothing but a vague smile and a near inaudible moan for my trouble. 

I often wondered why I acted for Draco without meaning to. I had spent night after night pondering it during each and every school year so far, as well as the years that had come before; ever since our paths had first crossed in a childhood connection of pure blood and rich parents. 

_Betrothed_ I thought to myself, despite having no real reason for that meaning to enter my mind, once again. 

There had never been an agreement as such, just what appeared to be a silent understanding between both of our parents. After all, if their children had been akin since they were too young to really remember being so - shoved into the same side rooms at Death Eater gatherings and variously themed balls, put in the same house within Hogwarts and spending a good part of most summers in each others company, reliving their triumphs within the castle walls and mourning their losses with the same hateful reproach - Why shouldn't the elders hope for a sturdy pureblood marriage of minds if not hearts? 

_What if that's not what we want.. What if that's not what he wants..._

This question haunted me more and more with each passing day spent in his company, after all, Draco Malfoy wasn't one to roll over and accept that which he didn't want. I asked myself this question over and over again, with each lock of his hair that I twirled around my fingers, with every moment in which I had sworn I saw a smile momentarily replace his usual trademark sneer, and with every single bitter and taunting word from his lips. What if we were doomed to end up in sharing the fate of their parents; married due to blood ties, due to proper accord, due to arrangement and circumstance rather than love. Love.. This suddenly seemed a rather odd concept to ponder in regard to Draco, so I pushed it swiftly aside and suddenly stopped thinking again at this point; I never pondered these question for long, the potential answers being too terrifying to let race through my mind for anything but the briefest of moments. 

_"Did you have a good summer Draco?"_

A sudden and strong voice boomed out from across from us, as if from nowhere within the stillness of the carriage, at which all eyes darted towards the speaker - Millicent Bullstrode. Milly (A name reserved for use by a few certain friends, myself included) had never had much time for tact, choosing to take the brash high road of using her rather handsome size to her advantage, and never without fail, usually. Draco's eyes snapped open at this remark, his head turning slowly towards the location of the voice and my hands moving accordingly, still idly rubbing his temples and smiling down at him in a half hearted sort of way, a typically Slytherin smile. With a sigh, Draco raised a lone eyebrow at Millicent, smirking slightly as if he had news to share, but was unwilling to share it in present company. His look of some deeper knowledge intrigued me, but I knew better than to keep from holding my tongue, for the time being at least. 

_"I've had an.. interesting, summer. Don't know so much about it being good, what with recent events.. But most certainly interesting.."_

Draco replied in a cold drawling voice, the smirk still apparent and splitting his lips slightly apart even after he had concluded. With the mention of recent events, Millicent's head had dropped slightly, along with the rest of the carriage's occupants, bar me - Every one of us knowing of the ill-fate of Lucius Malfoy after Potter and his sad bunch of brave idiots had ruined months of planning, and had some of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants hauled off to Azkaban due to the events that had occurred within the Department of Mysteries. It was as if the rest of them had forgotten it up until that moment, over what was likely a summer of frivolity for the lot of them. Lucky gits. 

I, on the other hand, had not been given the choice to forget. What with our families being so close, and my Mother being Madam Malfoy's closest friend, the level of contact between us had only increased doubly since Mr Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban; My Mother acting as Narcissa's confidant and my Father taking to minding the business side of things.  
My Mother and Narcissa Malfoy had been friends for years, it was actually Narcissa who had introduced my pureblood Mother to my pureblood Father, (after a rather shaming incident involving a muggle born who was handy with love potions, which my Mother since refuses to even acknowledge) thus sealing my inevitable fate as the princess to the Malfoy's prince, and our families to be bonded through pureblood loyalty. Obviously the Malfoy's loyalties to the other pureblood families were still heavily apparent, but my Mother and Narcissa had been unshakable ever since Mrs Malfoy had saved my Mother from what she deemed as 'A fate worse than a dementors kiss'. So her and I alone were forced to bear the burden of knowing most of the ins and outs of the Malfoy's life, especially that of Mr Malfoy's rather unfortunate incarceration. 

With no one seeming to want to take the issue any further - once more, myself included - the carriage fell silent again, Draco tilting his head back towards the ceiling and firmly into my lap, his eyes closing before having the chance to lock onto my rather expectant gaze. 

I rolled my eyes and smirked slightly, wondering if Draco had suddenly learnt to stem his temper, or if he was simply too tired to bother with anything but idle threats today. I remember thinking that it was a pleasant change, but looking back on that moment, I simply wish it had been. 

The rest of the train ride went by quietly and rather quickly in comparison to some of the journeys that us Slytherins had made together. With a grin from Millicent, and a slight cowering back into his seat from Crabbe at one point, I was forced to remember an incident in which the two had unwittingly got into a wrestling scuffle of attemptive headlocks at the start of third year, after Milly had been boasting about her ability to put _anyone_ in a head lock if they dared challenge her ability to do so, even in passing. Crabbe, being the dim witted fool that he is, had decided to give her a run for her money on such a statement; Milly-of course- coming out on top, quite literally as she had pinned Vincent to the floor of the compartment, much to the amusement of the rest of us, although the apparent dismay of Draco- who had immediately drawn his wand and sent a couple of quick hexes their way along with a look as if to tell them there'd be more where that came from if they were to continue making such a noise, and with nothing but the stereotypical wounded puppy look in reply from them both. 

Draco had an odd way about him when it came to that sort of thing; he hated passing the control of a situation to someone else, hated being out of the loop no matter how little it would serve him to be a part of things. And I liked that about him; it was one of the many stupid little things I liked about Draco, and yet another that had me rolling my eyes at my lack of restraint and even more so at my ill judgement. But we cannot help our feelings I suppose, all we can do is mask them with a sneer and hope that it isn't too apparent what's going on underneath. The Slytherin way, through and through. 

**

Draco

**

Laying my head down once more on a familiar lap, still smirking at the news I had decided to keep to myself until certain parties were proved worthy of such indulgence on my part, I closed my eyes before letting the questioning pair above me lock onto them; knowing full well that Pansy of all people would know that there was something I wasn't sharing, and with my brain not feeling so inclined for a wordless lecture, I chose to submit to the blissful darkness behind closed eyelids rather than face a probing without the need for words. 

Unfortunately (for me, anyway), Parkinson knew me above all others, better than I knew myself or so it seemed half the time. She was an annoyingly perceptive girl, and when it came to me; her perception of my mood, or lack thereof, was uncanny. As the years I had spent at Hogwarts rolled on by, I had found her to be a lot more worthy of my time than I previously gave her credit for; a lot different from the simpering third year who had cooed for weeks over my infuriating Hippogriff related injury and had hardly batted an eyelid as I near ignored her at the Yule Ball, spending most of the evening sat at a table seething over the lack of viable insults I had to throw at Potter and his Mudblood. 

It was last year, our fifth year, when I finally took notice of the fact that there was a real person lurking beneath the fawning facade.. Whether it was the added ego fuelling positions on the inquisitorial squad, a summer that had done a lot more than simply do her curves justice, or simply the fact that we were - and I hate to use this phrase - growing up; something changed with her. 

Gone was the lap dog that I had gotten used to teasing over her rather obvious infatuation with me, Gone was the pushover who would do my homework for me at the drop of a hat, and gone was the world I used to know in the sense of Pansy being involved. And might I add; gladly so. 

She had returned to school that year with a different outlook, a different sense of self. As she boarded the train and entered our compartment alone (a feat which, in itself, was rather miraculous), she gave me a courteous nod and uttered my name in a polite, unwavering and challengingly sultry voice as opposed to the high pitched and excitable one that she usually reserved for such a delight as letting the two syllables of my name roll off her tongue. It's actually quite astounding to think that a single word can change your perspective on something, how just one well known word said with a different strain, can force you to see something for what it truly is. Leaving me flabbergasted by such an action, she then strolled past me, not even flinching in silent longing as her bare flesh grazed mine, and took a seat on the opposite side of the carriage, leaving me to stretch out alone on what had been dubbed since our first year as 'my side'. It took her hours to join me, or so it felt as I darted back and forth through varying levels of feigned sleep. At a particularly elusive comment on my part regarding what Goyle had dubbed a 'nice growth spurt' on her part, she merely rolled her eyes and finally seated herself next to me, pushing me backwards far enough to perch on the edge of the seat, and leaning over towards me, her warm breath tickling my earlobe as she whispered in a near guttural, although notably charming tone _'Oh, just give it up Draco… You know you want me..'_

And from that moment on, I can't deny that she was right. Although I'd never be fool enough to utter such words or betray such weakness in her presence; I'd never hear the bloody end of it. 

The rest of our fifth year had passed much in the same way as the train ride preceding it had; mere aloof flirtation, other than a few stolen kisses as well as fiery arguments over her newfound temper when it came to anything I did that she deemed unfit. But that year, I was forced to realise that Pansy Parkinson was a force to be reckoned with, she was witty and intelligent. Dangerous yet somehow still warm. Manipulative yet she could hide nothing from me; a fleeting look seeming to somehow betray her deepest secrets. And damn, the girl really did have curves set out in all the right places! 

The summer we had just spent together only seemed to push things further. Given my Father's imprisonment, the Parkinson's had spent the majority of the 6 weeks of our school break at the Manor; Mrs Parkinson consoling my mother whilst knocking back a few bottles of mead per night in our parlour, and Mr Parkinson taking on the seemingly never ending task of keeping my Father's affairs in order during his absence. Leaving myself and the youngest Parkinson to while away the hours with nothing much but each other for company. We talked about everything; of life, the arts, dark magic, my Father and the other Death Eaters as well as our desire to join the ranks, our mutual distaste for muggles and their associations, childhood trauma's, adolescent fantasies.. If I'm honest, I don't think I've ever had need to be so candid about myself with anyone. Pansy had quoted it as 'Veritaserum without the potion aspect' to which I had laughed, seeing her point entirely and not being all too opposed to such a situation. Her audacity had astounded me on occasion, and her probing had seemed far too much at points, but I found myself relentlessly spilling every little detail in her company, often without realising I was doing so. I suppose you never really know how much you have to say unless you have someone who's as absent-mindedly eager to listen as you are to share. 

As her fingers ran through my hair in a familiar soothing motion, I smiled to myself, knowing all too well that the doting girl I had once known was still lurking beneath the façade she had built for herself. I must've fallen asleep with this thought in mind, as the next thing I remember was the bustling sound of people moving around me, Pansy, however; excluded from the rest of our chattering friends and still sat idly stroking my hair. Opening my eyes, I allowed myself to look up at her for the first time since my eyelids had closed before, taking in a smile and an almost motherly look of disapproval as she leant down towards me, mimicking both the motion and tone that she had used to her unknowing advantage just one year ago. 

_"I'm going to find out you know… Whatever it was that you were smirking about earlier…"_ she grinned, raising an eyebrow challengingly at me as I stared up at her with a grin of my own, my eyebrows flickering slightly at the knowledge that she was probably right in her thinking. 

_"Yes.. I have no doubt that you will…"_


End file.
